CHAPTER 5: THE SPARK IN-BETWEEN

The fete event sparkles with glamour and significance, with the chamber filled with New York's upper crust mingling and networking. At these high society functions, fortunes are made, deals are brokered, and reports are cemented over champagne toasts and indulgent hors d'oeuvres. Alexander moves through the room with rehearsed charm, the ultimate power player. But indeed, Katherine notices his smile does not relatively reach his eyes.

As Mr. Greene's administrative adjunct, Katherine helps coordinate these lavish commercial events. She ensures every last centerpiece and place card is perfect; knowing her scrupulous eye for detail is what. Greene relies on it to make his company shine. At 25 years old, her presence at the swank CEO's side turns heads. Yet Katherine carries herself with quiet confidence. She has earned her place.

Tonight, her crisp black gown and uplifted hairstyle make her mix in with the other spangling socialites. Across the bustling room, she catches Mr. Greene's attention

. The hint of a real smile on his generally serious face sends a little exhilaration through her. In their late nights together, Katherine has come to know the veritably mortal man behind the ruthless mogul image. That he can indeed partake of a hint of that true tone then surrounds her with pride.

Greene weaves consummately between clusters of tuxedoed men, fascinating implicit investors with that icy blue regard. Katherine notices the raptorial glint in the eyes of the over-groomed women circling him, empty for reflected status and wealth. Under their rapacious gaps, Mr. Greene's shoulders strain nearly gradually. After all this time at the zenith of power, he remains distrustful of ulterior motives.

Katherine feels defensive toward this man whom she has sluggishly blandished out from behind emotional walls, glancing at injuries that may never completely heal. She watches him supplicate the energy for further small talk, though the circles under his eyes betray his prostration after yet another 80-hour workweek. Mr. Greene has no bone

differently than attuned enough to read the little signals of his fraying faculty to keep up the mogul persona we all anticipate. No bone

differently, who cares about the man under? Except for her.

As if hearing her concerned studies across the crowds, Mr. Greene meets Katherine's eyes. The hint of tenderheartedness and gratefulness there makes her palpitations quicken. She offers him a discreet nod and an encouraging smile, hoping to convey, " I see you. The real you." For an electric moment, they partake in a wordless connection, a haven from the mass.

Just like Karen, the stunning raven-haired woman

of the company's Chief Innovation Officer, interrupts by bravely touching Mr. Greene's arm. Laughing too loudly at some mundane comment of his, the pneumatic beauty in the tight red gown presses her fractionalization against the CEO. Flustered, Mr. Greene tries politely disengaging himself as Karen runs her lacquered nails along his lapel. Katherine watches sourly from hence, indignant on her master's behalf.

She reminds herself Karen's husband heads the advanced R&D lab producing the company's cutting-edge designs. Karen herself chairs the important charity fete commission. Causing offense pitfalls blowback for Mr. Greene and Greene Enterprises. So Katherine simply observes with veiled eyes as Karen continues pawing over the decreasingly uncomfortable CEO.

But glancing again later. Greene's tense face, Katherine decides enough is enough. Gathering two crystal-clear champagne flutes from a passing server's charger, she cuts purposefully through the crowd. Coming up behind Karen, Katherine adroitly insinuates herself between the woman and Mr. Greene."Your drink, Mr. Greene," she interjects politely, handing him the champagne. Looking relieved, Mr. Greene gives Katherine a subtle thankful nod before easily disengaging himself from the discussion.

Katherine feels Karen glaring daggers at her but meets the woman's aspect

coolly without a word. She'll cover. Greene from these fortune-seeking dumdums if it takes running hindrance all night long. The supremely important man she serves intimately with similar care and understanding has no defenses in these apartments full of harpies smelling blood. Except for her.

As the evening wears on, Katherine continues subtly intermediating to steer exchanges, cost missed drinks, and handle the endless little social niceties. Greene dislikes. The part of administrative adjunct camouflages her real purpose—guarding him from behind the scenes so he suffers no insincere symbiosis or character impairment. Others misconstrue her alertness for careerist thirst; in reality, she wants no glory. Only for the man she now intimately thinks of as Alexander to be okay.

— —

The starlit party eventually winds down in the small hours of the night. Sick waiters clear abandoned tables littered with crumpled towels and empty wine spectacles. Outdoors, the limousines line up to whisk home the elite and aspirational. In his crisp tuxedo, Alexander oversees the breakdown crew while tapping assiduously on his phone. The purified image of power.

Walking over, Katherine notices flecks of tableware now dusting his night hair. knockout lines frame mouths and eyes that have smiled too little over 50 hard times. But the face compels her still."The auto is staying downward whenever you are ready, Mr. Greene," she says, scrupling."Unless. there were any final tasks you demanded my help completing?"

Alexander ganders over, surprised at her offered company, compactly cracking the facade. But the familiar armor snappily reassembles."No need, Miss Dawson. I am sure you are eager to get home yourself," he answers hastily."It's dreadfully late." His smile holds her at bay despite the craving hidden under them.

Katherine reads the intention couched in a noble tone of denial: gallant, careful Alexander still refuses to be on duty or appear vulnerable, indeed with her. But she thinks again of the unguarded closeness they've sluggishly erected over late-night Chinese takeout, reviewing case papers and candid addresses that healed hidden scars one disclosure at a time.

Alexander has given Katherine precious sight of the man beyond the ruthless mogul or cavalier playboy projected for the Machiavellian commercial sphere. Now she wants him to regard that man himself.

"It's no trouble, I assure you." Katherine risks a step closer, holding his skittish aspect

." I am happy to help you stay late. whenever needed." The words hang between them, suddenly freighted. Does he grasp her underpinning, implied offer? That she formerly saw him without his armor?

commodity shifts in Alexander's tired eyes. For a long moment, complete stillness surrounds them, the last souls left from the spangling swarms. Inexorable change waits balanced on a cutter's edge. Heart-knocking, Katherine wonders hectically if she has presumed too much too fast. They risked this tender new connection shaped across slow nights, learning each other's nearly held secrets. She braces for polite retreat and the reconditioning of professional walls.

But rather, Alexander looks at her, forming recognition. And tenderheartedness." Well. If you have time also." His voice scrapes slightly."I would appreciate it. continued backing, Miss Dawson. If you are relatively certain, you do not mind." The simple words hold a world of closeness.

Relief and expectation exhilaration through Katherine."It would be my honor." She does not trust herself with further words. This surprising new chance feels too fragile for direct light.

Alexander's answering smile overflows with wordless emotion. Katherine sees past the opulent chamber with its curtains now slightly rasped, the puck lights winking out section by section, his bone frazzle after innumerous gloamings like this meant only to cement the family conglomerate's dominance across every sector.

Right now, they stand alone together, all artifice fallen. The only authentic thing left. It's enough.

"Shall we?" he asks vocally, slipping his Italian hair surcoat. He holds her serape for her to slip her arms into—the tantalizing encounter of fingertips against her bare skin.

Converging her outside with a discreet hand, attentively at the small of her back, his presence by her side feels defensive and nutritional. Like coming in from the bitter bite.

Settling into the plush leather beside him in the back, Katherine casts the shy pleasure caching just under his impeccable poise. The partition separating them from the motorist creates a warm cocoon. Alexander's knees inadvertently brush hers along her silky gown, jolts of electricity neither shifting down from.

"Miss Dawson, I wanted to say." Alexander's voice trails out, uncharacteristically conditional."I deeply appreciate everything you did this evening. The way you handle these affairs and, well, handle me." Wry tone and effacement touch his smile."Everything would have collapsed into chaos without your finesse."

The praise warms Katherine more than the heat blowing vocally from the reflections."Of course. It's my pleasure to make your life run further easily, but I can still." Too late, she hears the unintended double meaning.

Alexander studies her, a complicated end across his face."Yes. Well." He clears his throat slightly."At any rate, I'm in your debt."

"No debt exists between us." She answers gently but forcefully.

He searches her face and seems to find the consolation she seeks. "Relatively right, Miss Dawson." The formal name sounds defensive in this charged new space between them. Not rejection, but tone preservation. His changes come from creeping supplements; she must flashback that.

They spend the remainder of the drive examining the party's issues in focused, professional tones that feel less like a game of pretend. But the destination looms now for both of them.

The satiny auto purrs to a stop outside Katherine's midtown high-rise. Rain mists down, sheeting the thoroughfares in gauzy haloes around streetlights. Neither moved to exit. Charged queries swirl around them.

" Alexander." Katherine begins impulsively.

" Yes?" The name comes out rough, suddenly intimate in this space where places feel suspended.

"Would you like to come up for a nightcap?" She plunges recklessly ahead before she loses her whim-whams."I have an excellent Scotch, which I suppose you'd enjoy." The pause crackles.

"That is veritably kind, but I should not put it further." Alexander trails off; the kick is purely for form. Because his eyes say yes.

Katherine touches his hand, where it rests gripped on his knee."It's no duty." Their joined hands were inflamed.

Alexander turns his wink sluggishly over to cradle hers, a raw vulnerability in his unguarded face. Hope and craving shine through, unmoored from conservative conventions or enterprises of consequence. He seems suddenly youngish, like the boy who pictured off further.

"Well, also. Just a quick nightcap wouldn't go amiss, I suppose." Relief and desire scuff his voice.

They exit wordlessly, his hand thoughtful now at her reverse. Any walls left between them burn down in the rain's argentine mist. This night will change everything, Katherine knows without mistrust. But she sees the liberating hint of joy and wonder forming in Alexander's tired eyes.

No matter what comes next for them, she'll help cover the exposed man, learning to live beyond locked doors and loneliness. But for now, only this moment exists.

Alexander's win burns fever hot against her soppy velvet serape as they accelerate laughing outside, leaving all the cold and caution behind. hereafter can stay.